Pattyanne Corsentino dispensed cough drops and hugs, and abandoned the notion that she would teach science as usual.
She vacillated between defending Denver Public Schools Superintendent Michael Bennet to her students and bursting into tears with them – taking them in like a parent would, with a firm hug around the neck and confident reassurance that they would recover.
The students came and went, and Corsentino let them. Some even cussed in front of her, which she admonished but quietly understood.
“I wanted to retire in this room,” she said. “I fell in love with this school and the kids. I guess sometimes you get a gift and you just can’t keep it.”
A sharp sense of loss coursed through the Manual High Educational Complex on Friday after the Denver school board decided to close the historic building for a year. Several dozen students walked out of school and protested at DPS headquarters at East Ninth Avenue and Grant Street.
The district plans to open a new school at Manual in 2007 for just freshmen. Each year, a class will be added.
Corsentino came to Manual for a fresh start after years in middle schools. She had heard about gangs and violence and was terrified of high schoolers.
But she hasn’t had to break up one fight. Kids cling to her and she dotes on them. There are microwaveable noodles in the back closet and discounted Valentine’s chocolates in her drawer.
“I can even get the girls to clean for chocolate,” she said, laughing.
She loves getting invited to graduations, weddings and baby showers. She has taught long enough that she has had two generations of families.
Three students called her at home Thursday night to tell her about the school board’s decision earlier that evening.
The fate of her 112-year-old school was chosen by board members increasingly intolerant of schools with abysmal Colorado Student Assessment Program test scores. Consistently, Manual students were among the lowest scorers in the city.
Also, its enrollment had plummeted 47 percent in four years. The school cut elective classes and clubs. Its three small schools – one on each floor of the building – have diminished to a few hundred kids apiece and a handful of teachers.
“I think the hardest part is what is happening with the people in the building,” said board member Kevin Patterson. “I wouldn’t want that to happen to me, but we’re hopeful we can give them a better education. I’m trying to put a positive spin on this, but it’s tough and it’s emotional. We don’t sign up to close schools.”
The students who drifted in and out of Corsentino’s classroom at week’s end were red-eyed and shivering – their emotions raw but predictable.
“We’re freshmen, we barely got started, we’re getting blamed for people’s CSAP scores that we didn’t take,” Ruby Calderon said.
“I wanted to stay here; I love this school,” Ashley Howard said.
One student yelled an obscenity about CSAPs into the classroom, without walking in.
Corsentino sighed and began unpacking an order of sheep eyeballs she bought herself for $69 to dissect. She hounded her students about getting permission slips in for a ski trip. She talked about a new exhibit at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science she hopes to take a class to.
Those were her strong moments.
Calderon shrank beneath a black sweat-shirt hood and wiped tears from her face. She made the honor roll and was supposed to be celebrated at a pep assembly, but it was canceled.
Corsentino looked at her.
“You’re going to make me cry, Ruby!” she said, fanning her eyes and throwing her head back in hopes of getting tears to go back to where they came from. “You know, you’re going to be fine. You’re young and you’re resilient and you work hard.
“It’s us old people who have a harder time adjusting.”
Staff writer Allison Sherry can be reached at 303-820-1377 or asherry@denverpost.com.
